


bus stop encounter

by chubsonthemoon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Vague manga spoilers, bike incidents, current kags doesn't know how to express affectionTM, hinata meets future!kags and has a crisis, lil magical realism for the soul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:19:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26878834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chubsonthemoon/pseuds/chubsonthemoon
Summary: While seeking shelter from the rain, Hinata meets someone familiar.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 15
Kudos: 121





	bus stop encounter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mysterytwin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterytwin/gifts).



> AJSLDKFJS IT'S STILL THE SEVENTH HERE ANYWAY
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY JANINE MY DEAR ILSYM!!! pls take this silly thing i fever-wrote at 1 am last night ajsldkfjsl

For the first time in his high school career, Hinata Shouyou is late to volleyball practice.

He shoves as much toast into his mouth as he can and yells out a muffled _I’m leaving!_ to Natsu, who is still standing at the doorway in her pajamas and fuzzy slippers, rubbing her eyes.

“Bye, Nee-chan,” she says sleepily. “Mom says it’s going to rain today so don’t forget your umbrella—”

But he’s already out the door, slinging one leg over his bike seat and pushing off. It probably won’t rain today, anyway. He pedals faster than he ever has in his life, maybe even faster than the first time he had made the long journey over the mountain pass. The morning autumn air is cool on his face as he charges up the hill, but he has no time to relish the rush, the wind in his hair, as he lets gravity carry him down the slope.

In fact, he leans in, goes as fast as he dares, because he can’t be late, he’s already behind by two whole rounds, and he’ll never hear the end of it from—

The school gates come into view all too soon, the familiar characters bright and shining in the morning light— _the sun is too far up, dammit._ He gives himself exactly two seconds to make sure there are no cars coming before barreling across the street and through the gates, making as sharp a turn as he can into the awning that houses his bike.

Too fast, apparently. Because around that same corner comes a familiar, idiot-shaped black and blue blur, and suddenly Shouyou is no longer seated on his bike, he is flying through the air and his eyes close instinctively and a sharp pain hits him somewhere on his forehead, warm and hard and _owowowowowow what the hell—_

Oh. It’s Kageyama.

“Hinata you _dumbass_ ,” Kageyama wheezes, rage coloring his voice beneath the pain. Hinata sits up and tries very hard not to pass out. The world tilts and he falls onto something knobbly and pointy—oh, those are Kageyama’s knees _, what the hell?_ He flops onto the ground over the stupid bony knees— _seriously, how can Kageyama have so many….muscles, and still be bony?_ From the ground, gravel gritty against his neck, he sees one lone wheel of his bike up in the air, still spinning in the blue morning sky as if to mock him.

“I’m going to…” another wheeze from Kageyama next to him, who is rubbing his head and wincing. “I’m going to kill you.”

Hinata wonders if they have concussions. He probs the crown of his head gingerly; the diarrhea pressure point is safe, thank goodness. But wait—oh _no_ , what if Kageyama’s stupid transferred over? He’s already failing so many classes…

“Bakageyama,” is all he can manage. He struggles to his feet. “Where…where the hell did you come from?”

He picks up his bike and totters over to the bike rack, locking it and readjusting his bag over his shoulder. He can feel a lump starting to form on his forehead— _this is all Kageyama’s fault_ he thinks sourly. If he hadn’t called Hinata late last night, Hinata wouldn’t have slept late, wouldn’t have woken up late this morning, and wouldn’t have had to rush all the way here. Wouldn’t have run right into Kageyama’s stupid face first thing in the morning.

Kageyama is still on the ground, but he’s sitting up now, one hand going to his stupid pointy knees and standing slowly. He sways for a moment as Hinata skirts over, cautious.

“Are…are you okay?” he asks. He does feel a little bad. He had kinda come hurtling around the corner without warning. That was probably dangerous, and if Kageyama was actually hurt, then. Then he’d feel bad.

“I’m fine, you ass,” Kageyama says, no longer wheezing. He still sounds winded, though, like they’ve just done a round of flying drills. “It was your dumb bike that hurt. Front wheel hit my knees.”

“Oh,” Hinata says. He dares to inch a little closer, peering over into Kageyama’s face. He looks…fine. No bloody nose, no cracked skull. And not as murderous as usual, which is…weird. He’s looking at Hinata, too, and there’s a little line between his brows.

“Are you okay,” he says. Hinata doesn’t even register it as a question until the silence that follows, awkward and horrible and _gah_ , concern is not a good look on Kageyama. Hinata’s stomach feels weird.

“Fine!” he says, stepping back. His voice shoots half an octave higher than usual. “Just fine. Your big face acted as cushion anyway.” He tacks on the insult more out of habit than anything. That feels weird, too. God, this is all Kageyama’s fault.

“Good. That’s…good.” He doesn’t even rise to the halfhearted jab, instead still just _looking_ at Hinata, and Hinata feels his stomach do a funny flip. He shouldn’t have eaten that toast so quickly. “If you’d gotten hurt I would’ve killed you.”

“That’s not…” Hinata starts, then gives up. He sighs, examines his elbow which is probably scraped through his jacket, now. “Sorry. I guess.” Another pause. “Bakageyama.”

Another moment. His elbow seems fine, upon closer inspection. Guess Kageyama and his stupid bony legs and…very strong chest were good for something. Birds chirp in the red trees that line the courtyard, and the school grounds are deserted except for them. A car drives by outside the fence and fades into the distance, the breeze picks up. Kageyama is still looking at him, almost thoughtful.

Recently, these weird quiet moments have been happening more and more often. Kageyama will look more constipated than usual, then when Hinata calls him out for staring, he’ll glare even harder, like Hinata has just served into the back of his head. Usually, he just walks away. Except…

Except yesterday at lunch in the courtyard, a thing they had also started doing recently, after Hinata caught him staring and said, all puffed up and ready for a fight _what? Got somethin’ on my face?_ , he had just…stood there. Looking constipated and dumb, as per usual. Then—

 _How are you today._ He had cleared his throat. Added, _idiot_ , as if an afterthought.

Hinata has no idea what it means, these non-questions. No freaking clue.

Kageyama is still staring at him; Hinata goes to rub his face, make sure there’s no dirt from the crash left.

“Are you really okay?” Hinata asks, peering closer now that it’s apparent Kageyama isn’t going to immediately kill him. “You didn’t hit your head too hard or anything, did you?”

Kageyama’s cheeks are red. He must be cold, which is weird, because it’s cool, pleasant and balmy, but not that cold. “I’m fine. Watch where you’re going next time.”

“I will!” Hinata says, feeling much better. “And that’s good.”

“Good?” Kageyama asks, and Hinata is already taking off, arms pumping as he runs as fast as he can towards the clubroom.

When he hears the noise of outrage from behind him, familiar as breathing, he laughs into the open fall air. _Hah!_

***

They are sturdy young boys. They should not have to go to the nurses’ office for bumps and bruises and other dumb stuff.

“God, this is all your fault,” Kageyama says, all traces of concern from earlier gone. Hinata sticks his tongue out and leans against the wall outside the nurse’s office. They’re still waiting their turn; Ukai had taken one look at the bump on Hinata’s head and the scrape on Kageyama’s left leg, a long, gross thing that went from kneecap to mid-shin, and sent them both away. _No point in playing if you’re just gonna hurt yourselves even more._

“Okay, first of all, it is _not_ ,” Hinata says, crossing his arms. “Second, it’s actually _yours_ , because I was running late—”

“How the hell is it my fault? You were the one who was late, what the fuck?”

“Hey! Stop saying bad words in the middle of the hallway, you’re so vulgar. And it’s your fault because you called last night? At like, ten thirty?”

“You can’t do the math homework either, dumbass, don’t act like you know what’s happening in class, and it wasn’t even that late—"

“Hinata Shouyou?” says the nurse, and Hinata looks away from Kageyama, lips pursed. Stupid-yama. Stingy-yama.

As he walks in, lets the nurse shine a light in his eyes, he supposes that Kageyama’s right, that being late was probably more Hinata’s fault. They had actually hung up after only an hour, so it hadn’t been _that_ late; they’d given up on the homework after like twenty minutes and started talking strategy and new practice matches and what Kenma was saying about the matchups this year. Well, Hinata talked and Kageyama grunted and made the usual Kageyama noises.

 _Goodnight, dumbass,_ he had said when they hung up. _See you tomorrow._

Hinata had lain awake for three hours after that, just staring at his ceiling. For no reason. But he knew it was Kageyama’s fault, because on every other weeknight he could sleep just fine. Kageyama’s voice did not ring in his ears, quiet and almost fond, on those nights.

“You don’t have a concussion,” the nurse says, frowning. “But I think you should refrain from practice today, just so you don’t overdo it.”

“No practice?” he says, eyes feeling like they’re about to pop out of his head. “But ma’am—”

The nurse clicks her light off, already turning away. “No practice,” she says. “Next!”

Outside in the hallway, Kageyama is still waiting. There is a question in his eyes.

“Just go,” Hinata says. “I’ll bet you’ll get banned from practice too.”

The sky, greying in the windows, thunders in agreement.

***

As it turns out, Kageyama does not get banned from evening practice, only from flying receives. Hinata sulks for the rest of the day. Ukai tells him to go home halfway through, because he, quote “needs to learn how to rest or so help me God.”

Hinata eyes the slowly emptying basket of balls, palms itching. Fine. He knows how to rest. He knows better than anyone.

Doesn’t make it easier, though.

“Be ready for tomorrow,” Kageyama says beside him. Hinata nearly jumps three feet in the air; what is _with_ Bakageyama and showing up out of nowhere? “You’ll have to make it up.”

 _I’ll toss to you extra tomorrow,_ he means. Hinata wonders when he started understanding Bakageyama-speak. Maybe that was why his outright inquires of _how are you, idiot_ or _goodnight_ were so weird. Since they were straightforward. Or something.

“I will,” he promises, then tears himself away from the gym before he can say something truly stupid, like _will you call again tonight_?

To make the day even better, the moment he pedals onto the mountain road, the first few drops of rain begin to fall, cold and like dull needles on his skin. 

_Great_ , he thinks, wind whipping at his hair. There should be a bus stop station around here somewhere, just to wait out the storm. He thinks of Natsu’s warning this morning and sighs; if this is what happens—late for school, forgotten umbrella, no practice—when Kageyama calls him, then maybe it’s better if Kageyama stopped calling.

The thought feels so wrong he immediately shakes it away. Nah, that wouldn’t be right either. He’d never admit it, but he shouldn’t have stayed up so late last night. He’ll just have to make the most of what’s left today, let it be an evening of productive rest.

Besides, Kageyama’s voice over the phone sounds…nice, when Hinata doesn’t have to look at his dumb face. Softer, even.

He finds the bus stop just as the sky opens up, rain pouring down in literal sheets.

“Wow,” he murmurs, watching the water fall in waves, forming little tributaries within minutes in the dirt gutters of the roads.

“It’s really coming down,” says a voice to his left. Hinata nearly jumps straight out of his skin.

“Wha—?”

There’s a man standing on the other support of the bus stop, hand out and palm skyward as if to catch the water. He is tall, much taller than Hinata, with broad shoulders and black hair. He’s wearing grey sweats and a black jacket with a jagged yellow lightning bolt across the hip, and he looks weirdly familiar, in a way Hinata can’t place. He wracks his brains; maybe one of the dads of Natsu’s friends? He goes to pick her up from school, sometimes. Or maybe one of the coaches from training camp.

But then the man turns, and Hinata falls down for the second time today, mouth agape. The hair is a little different, parted down the middle and without the choppy bangs, face fuller and jawline more square, but…

Kageyama Tobio stares at him, mouth open with surprise.

Except it’s also not Kageyama, because _his_ Kageyama is bony and shorter and has different hair and is distinctly, very really, younger.

“Holy shit, I really did hit my head,” Hinata says, staggering to his feet. He leans on his bike for support. “Kageyama?”

Not-Kageyama is staring at him, too. “Did you get shorter?” he asks, squinting.

“What the— _no,_ you idiot—” Hinata begins, before realizing that _ohshit maybe this isn’t Kageyama, maybe this is like his uncle?_ “I mean. Sorry. Are you related to Kageyama? Kageyama Tobio?”

Another squint. “I am Kageyama Tobio,” he says slowly, as if Hinata is the one who is crazy, not him, the full-grown adult version of the boy whose voice keeps Hinata awake at wee hours of the night. “Shouyou?”

Hinata feels all the blood in his body turn to _fire_. “Yes?” he squeaks. No, that’s definitely Kageyama’s voice— _what the hell? What the hell?_

“Ah, shit,” Not-Kageyama says, wiping his hand on his sweats and sitting down on the bench. “I must’ve gotten off at the wrong stop again.”

“I’m sorry?”

Kageyama raises an eyebrow at him, as if to say _keep up_. “Don’t worry about it.” He glances at his watch— _since when does Kageyama wear watches?_ _Who is he keeping time for?_ “Why are you out so early, don’t you have practice?”

Hinata startles. Well, this might as well happen. He sits gingerly on the other end of the bench, eyeing Not-Kageyama suspiciously. It really is him, just…older. And more muscular. “Got sent home early,” he mumbles, staring at his sneakers, the puddles in the gravel at his feet.

“Oi, you need to take care of your health, dumbass,” Kageyama says. A pause. “Actually, wait, what year are you in?”

“Second year,” Hinata says. This so weird. What the hell. “Why?”

Kageyama nods, looking satisfied. “Then good. You already know.”

Hinata goes quiet. Ah. Yes, he knew. So did adult Kageyama, for some reason. He wonders if current Kageyama also knows, knows how hard it is for him to unlearn years of never stopping for anything.

Oh. Was that why…?

_How are you today. Dumbass._

“He’s doing his best,” Kageyama says, as if reading his mind. “Don’t worry, it gets better.”

Hinata yelps, face burning. “How did you—?”

“I know you, dumbass,” Kageyama says, and if Hinata didn’t know any better, he’d say the slope of Kageyama’s mouth is almost…curved. Fond. A smile.

Holy shit.

“It’ll be a long, hard road,” Kageyama is saying, looking out to the rain. The curve becomes more pronounced, more assured, more than Hinata has ever seen. He is _smiling._ Kageyama Tobio is _smiling_ , and Hinata can’t stop staring. “But you never give up. Ever.”

Hinata still can’t be sure he isn’t dreaming, that this isn’t some concussion-induced illusion and that he’s not still on the ground this morning, knocked out, but if it isn’t. If it isn’t.

“Do I make it?” he asks, his voice no more than a whisper. He thinks of half-formed plans that have already taken the shape of something more definite, sand packed beneath his feet and in his hands to form a castle he needs to build on his own. _I need to be able to do everything._ “Do I make it to the top?”

Kageyama looks away from the rain, and his smile becomes something fierce. _This_ smile Hinata knows; he sees it every time he hits a set that Kageyama put up, just for him. Every time he slams it home.

“What do you think?” he says, and oh, that’s not fair. Apparently adult Kageyama knows how to make fun without being an asshole, something his younger self has yet to realize is even a thing, let alone master.

“Doesn’t matter!” Hinata says, suddenly feeling very annoyed. Even now, he’s annoying. _Bakageyama._ “I’m gonna make it anyway, so it’s not like I need your permission. If you’re even real.”

Kageyama blinks. “Of course I’m real, dumbass,” he says. “I’ve played in the Olympics. That’s as real as it gets.”

All of the air suddenly whooshes out of Hinata’s lungs. “The _Olympics?_ Waaaaaah, that’s so cool!”

He always knew Kageyama was amazing, but the _Olympics…_ suddenly, despite the rain and the wind, he feels very, very warm.

“If you made it,” he says, happier than he’s been in days. “Then that means I made it, too.”

The look Kageyama sends him is curious, head tilted to the side. His Kageyama does the same thing (wait, when did he start thinking of Kageyama as _his?_ ) “How can you be so sure?” he asks.

Hinata sticks out his tongue. “Don’t look so surprised! I’ll never let you beat me. Duh.”

And _oh_ , there it is—that smile, again. It’s small and almost soft, even, where his Kageyama’s might be a challenge. Why is that? This is a new smile, one that this Kageyama seems to give away so freely, like it’s nothing. Like it’s a habit.

“No, you never will,” he says, and his voice is the same as his Kageyama’s had been over the phone last night, when he said _goodnight, Hinata,_ and _I’ll see you tomorrow._ Simple words, everyday words. Words that Hinata hears from his classmates. Words that should not make his stomach feel weird. “And I won’t let you beat me, either.”

Words like a challenge, voice like something so, so familiar. Like Kageyama is used to saying them, like it’s a secret language. But the way he says them, so confident, not even aware—Kageyama must share the code with someone, right? Hinata wonders who it is.

The bus rattles over the hill from the direction of Hinata’s home, heading back towards the school. Kageyama stands, turns to glance at him. “This is me.”

Hinata feels a little rush of disappointment, even though this Kageyama isn’t his to miss. _Wait, does that mean he misses Kageyama when he’s not around?_ He pushes aside the weird thoughts for now and offers hand, the one that isn’t holding onto his bike.

Kageyama blinks, then holds out his own left hand. “Well, this was weird,” he says. His palm is warm and dry, despite the rain. Hinata feels something cool and metal against his fingers. _Huh?_

“You said you guys are in second year now?” Kageyama is saying. His eyes look faraway. “A tough year—just, humor him, will you? Don’t give up on him. He’s new to this.” A pause. “And ask Yachi-san if you have any questions.”

His hand falls to his side just as the bus arrives. Hinata sees a flash of gold on Kageyama’s left hand— _a ring?_ “Okay,” he says, eyes bugging, not really processing. Kageyama is already turning away, and _what the hell, is that a wedding ring?_ Holy shit. “Wait—who is it?”

Kageyama pauses before the open doors. “Huh?”

Hinata gestures wildly to the golden band on his ring finger, feeling almost hysterical. “Who the hell was dumb enough to marry you?”

And something very strange happens—Kageyama _laughs_ , full bodied, shoulders shaking, hand to his mouth. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he is _laughing_ , and it’s the most beautiful thing Hinata has ever seen— _what the fuck. What the fuck._

“What!” Hinata says, feeling angry for some reason. “It’s a fair question!”

Kageyama’s laughter subsides and he just grins, full and bright and wide. “Tell you what,” he says. “When you come back from Brazil, I’ll let you know. Well, _he_ will. Deal?”

And before Hinata can say anything else, he turns and boards the bus.

The words—Hinata’s not even sure what they might’ve been—die instantly in his throat. They shrivel up and die and he can’t _breathe_ , just stands there and watches the bus doors close and the engine roar away. Or maybe that’s the just the blood rushing to his head, the way the world goes in and out of focus, the way his hands start shaking.

Because as Kageyama had boarded, back to Hinata, he had seen the letters in bright gold on his jacket, letters he knows even with his abysmal grades in English. Letters forming a word as familiar as the rough voice who says it most.

***

“Hinata. Oi. Dumbass. _Hinata.”_

He looks up from his math homework, asymptotes and other horrible things that he should not have to learn swirling down the drain of his brain.

“Yeah?” he says. He feels like he’s been dreaming. What was he doing?

“I’m gonna hang up on you if you don’t respond, dumbass,” Kageyama is saying. “What did you get for number four?”

Hinata stares out the window; the rain has stopped. He feels for the bump on his head; yeah, still there. Huh.

“HINATA,” comes the voice from the speaker, and then a click. He must have hung up.

_Don’t give up on him._

Face feeling very warm, he punches in the number he refuses to acknowledge he has memorized.

“What."

“Sorry, sorry, just spaced out. I'm here now. For number four I got…”

***

“Haha, Bakageyama, guess you got lost again, huh?”

“Idiot. See if I ever visit your house again.”

“You know Natsu wanted to see you! Plus it’s been awhile since we’ve been home.”

“Yeah, yeah. Here’s your jacket back, by the way. It’s too small on me. Now scoot, we still have a few more stops.”

“Oi, don’t push! And you say that, but you still wear it? All the time?”

“Shut up.”

“…”

“…”

“Oh yeah, who was that? I was looking at my phone for a sec—Daichi-san texted, said the reunion’s this Friday—but there was someone else at the bus stop, yeah?”

Kageyama Tobio, professional V league volleyball player and Olympic athlete, pulls his husband close and looks out the window from over the top of his head.

“Some punk kid from Miyagi. Said he was gonna win against me.”

“Oh? Sounds like a cool guy. I’d do the same.” A shit-eating grin against his collarbone, Kageyama’s favorite. “ _Have_ done, actually.”

He grins back into his fiery hair, watches sunbeams spill out of the sky.

“Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! <3  
> my [twitter](https://twitter.com/chubsthehamster) and [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/chubsonthemoon).


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